


The Days Leading to the Full Moon

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Category: Scrutinized (Video Game), Welcome to the Game (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Touching, Obsession, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sedation, Serial Killers, Somnophilia, Stalking, Unhealthy Relationships, but it's on the edge..., hypersenitivity, there's no actual rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 11:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25848982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Anonymous asked: girl would you write for tanner?A/N: Will I ever. I rarely know what I'm doing these days, but here we go! This is gonna be coming out in daily installments. ;) Hope you all like it. Please see the tags for warnings.
Relationships: Tanner (Scrutinized)/Luna Youngman
Comments: 75
Kudos: 257





	1. Half-Dose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



**A Thursday. Heavy rain. Very muddy…**

Perhaps the weather wasn't ideal, but it hid his tracks just as well as treadless shoes - as good as simply not being here. Summer heat, smothered by the dreary forecast, obscured his view through the windows, and while usually, he'd simply let himself in, tonight it was raining, and rain made mud. Mud made a mess, and Tanner didn't appreciate messes, which was common ground he admired about the woman beyond the panes. 

Luna kept a neat and ordered home, regardless of whether she really did much living in it. Few times did he stumble across a forgotten article of clothing (although when he did, it merely ended up in his collection for later) and rarely did he spot a scuff mark or congealed stain of food. He could tell when she'd had a long day and an even longer night ahead of her when there were more than one or two dirty dishes in the sink. Tonight, he couldn't see into the kitchen, but the way she slouched forward in her computer chair, lip between her teeth, said it was one of those evenings. 

A takeout carton of some Eastern dish sat sunken behind her bottle of water; a statement of the day's events.  _ How a home-cooked meal would perk her right up, _ he thought. 

Sadly, he couldn't stay long let alone tie her to a chair and cook for her. 

His clothes were heavy with moisture. Those twitchy fingers of his were starting to drum in hyperactive impulsivity. Another one of those breathy, frustrated sighs of hers would surely send him into a tailspin of maddening pursuit. The last time she wouldn't stop making noises, he found himself much closer than he planned; perhaps inches from the back of her neck. 

Spontaneity was fun, but over the years, Tanner realized dragging this stuff out was much more…  _ pleasurable _ . 

"Not yet, no. We have plenty more time," he whispered, hot against the glass, "... plenty. I’ve got more fun things planned for the two of us." 

With a trembling digit, he drew a smiley face in the thick condensation from his breath, relishing the way Luna blinked at the soft little squeak of his skin against her window. 

"Maybe tomorrow," he added in a low threat, already retreating back to the sidewalk where his forlorn and dripping umbrella awaited him. 

Tomorrow night's forecast predicted a light northern breeze and a first-quarter waning gibbous, barely bright enough to spot him on those wire-frayed cameras. Getting caught was its own rush, but even just the possibility made things more interesting - more electrically charged. _ The tension was palpable! _ Sooner or later, she was going to find him. Her timing was eventually going to bear fruit. Tanner knew this. 

As the rain pelted down across his black polyester umbrella, he unbuttoned his lab coat, blowing out warm regard for the thought of her upcoming death. Just thinking about it now was causing scratchy sensations of manic excitement; warm venom rising beneath the skin. His heart thudded happily, eager to feel that morbid high - that sweet, sweet jolt as life glossed over eyeballs. 

_ Luna has such gorgeous eyes _ , he thought, wondering how they would look rolling beneath her lids, lashes fluttering closed… weeping tears of-

An abrupt splash of tepid, filthy rainwater pelted him across the stomach. The backfire kick of some road hog rumbled past him as foul moisture stained through his pressed linens. He turned, livid - hot with a new hunger - and caught the flash of street lights off the license plate. He committed the tag to memory, watched the truck turn left at the four-way, and imagined a sparkling waterfall of blood cascading out the truck bed.

_ Red fell like rain from the sky. The puddles around his heels were goopy, clumping pools of blood. Animalistic contentment rose.  _

Tanner undid his belt buckle, releasing tight, body-heated pressure from the gritty, vile street water, and tapped his heel. He smiled, that smile stretching into a viper's grin, and snapped his toe-heel forward, followed by a quick backheel tap to the wet cement - and repeat. 

He shrugged off the tack of rage with a loose waistband and open coat. Picturing merriment and murder, he danced and skipped his way home, kicking water to and fro. Glistening droplets fanned outward as he twirled his umbrella with an infectious tune humming in the back of his throat. If he whistled, well… it was only because the person behind the wheel of  _ 5-61943M _ had a good eighteen hours left of life before they ended up in a trash bag. 

Tanner was gonna make it rain red… and then, the real solo waltz would begin.

  
  


**Following Sunday. Hot… with dry thunderstorms.**

He's been standing beside her bed for a few minutes now; contemplative and… hesitant. Tonight was supposed to be the night. He made plans, brought the supplies, and set up his alibi with methodical precision. All the usual bangs and whistles were put in place. Yet...

"Hmm…" he considered low in his chest. Watching Luna's body twitch in her sleep - unaware but still reactive to an unknown presence in her bedroom - was hypnotizing in a way he hadn’t foreseen. It was less those typical throbbings down below and more an expectation of her next breath. He found some clean pleasure in watching her lungs continue to fill, release, and fill again.

Something was nagging at him about her potential demise. Things just didn't feel right. Could it be something as simple as the timing? Perhaps it was just too soon - maybe next week would work better.  _ No, no... that wasn't it. _ The timing was perfect. There was something else making him hesitate. 

Usually, these dalliances didn't last this long. So far he’d spent thirty-two days stalking this one, eleven days longer than his longest game. That previous record was only so long due to some issues at work - an alibi that couldn’t be secured fast enough. Luna was most peculiar indeed. One swoop of the needle and he could have her down in the basement, a thing to play with as he so chose, but he merely rubbed his thumb up and down the cool barrel of his syringe; waiting for something.

Tanner stood there, needle poised between them, and found himself wondering if she'd ever locate  _ him _ . That current fixation of the media: The Blue Blood Killer. Was she close? No, she wasn't, but  _ oh _ , did she try. Sometimes, he wondered if she’d keep searching until the moment her heart stopped beating.

If she had more time than he planned to give her, would Luna succeed in her quest for justice? Of course, she's never caught Tanner, both within her neighborhood watch program or outside it at work. Of the thousands of cases she's filed and processed; statistically, one or two of them concerned himself. Then again, Tanner was too good for that, but if Luna couldn't catch him philandering inside people's stomachs and such, then there was little chance she could uncover whatever BBK was.

"... which begs to question what I'm going to do with you now."

Sound asleep, with no way to know what true horrors lurked just mere inches away, Luna's leg stretched beneath the sheet. He followed the wrinkles and shadows it made with his eyes, barely moving. She kicked off the covers and slowly, ever sluggishly, her leg slumped over the edge of the bed. 

His eyes traversed the naked skin. Nearly an acre of it kissed the moonlight cutting through her curtains. So much… flesh, and so suddenly. It surprised him. It wounded him. It brought him to a sour, heated conclusion. Tanner clenched his fists and fingers. The plunger on the syringe sunk deep, ejecting more than half Luna's dose; dribbles of midazolam running down his knuckles. 

A flicker of excitement, colored in posey, ripped back the thicker layer of murder that usually - almost always - accompanied these outings. The usually dormant flesh beneath his belt prickled with blood flow. Genuine embarrassment snapped in his cheeks before it settled into something dark… something wicked and… obsessive. 

The only neighbors that cared for her safety - or the idea of caring - were away for the next two nights. Not that he needed them gone to have his fun. The dribbling hypodermic in his fist wouldn't knock her out, but it would keep her quiet. However, the thing he wished to keep her docile for had changed, and the seedy desire that replaced it was new. 

Like a Congo snake might hesitate in the brush, minutes before striking their unlucky victim into explosive cell death, Tanner swayed backward. He took a step back, then again, retracing his steps until he was slipping out the guest bedroom window. 

Tanner drank in the evening warmth, smiling despite the way his body shook. Musical crickets ushered him away from Luna Youngman's home, back to his own dwelling where he'd have to rethink this whole  _ murder thing _ . 

Surely, they had more time. Tanner could give her a few more days. He was generous after all. A kind sort of man when he wanted to be. Luna needed to find out who this mysterious BBK was anyhow, and she certainly couldn't do that if she was dead, living on in his memories like a returning program of merriment and uncompromised entertainment. It sounded well and good but not great. Definitely not perfect.

For now, Tanner would wait - wait and try not to think about that bare, silky leg hanging off the bed.


	2. Pure Potency

**The next day. More rain, but tolerable.**

Work. Work. Work. Work. Work… 

For once, it was his work and not Luna's that rattled things up for him - that kept his mind buzzing and hyper-focused. Murders were piling up. Cases were teetering across every surface in unstable heaps as if the average denizen was simply too pent up. There was little time to recall Luna's bare leg and what silken sensations he might have relished in if only he'd reached out and-

"Tanner. Look alive. We need the results of the blood spatter analysis."

"Ah," he smiled - ripped out of a deep hole - appreciating the distraction from such unplanned thoughts, "the one in Indonesia's shape? Or-or the Hamilton spatter that looks like a flock of elephants?"

"... Hamilton," his dower, slightly uncomfortable-looking coworker replied. None of them were fun. Not at all, but few appreciated the finer things in life, not like himself.

With a chummy hum, Tanner stepped away from his photography catalog (all pulled from a case that Luna helped bring to the attention of the law) and pulled out a thick folder containing his morning findings. He handed it back without a glance, returning quite happily to his extracurricular work. However, he did not receive solitude as his reward. Oddly enough, this coworker chose to linger - to hover - despite his  _ reputation _ .

"What has you so captivated?"

"It's nothing - nothing really," he began, thinking about ending it there, but his passion got the better of him. "Well, you see, I've been finding all these crime scenes related to citizen tips  _ rather interesting _ . A good samaritan is hard to come by. Wouldn't you say?"

"... I guess-" 

Tanner cut them off swiftly, his voice rising, breaking slightly, "And wouldn't you agree that a good  _ and _ reliable samaritan is even harder to come by??"

"Yeah. I suppose so…"

"Hmm," he thought aloud, drumming his fingers against his desk until his nail beds began to ache. The man back stepping out of his lab, swallowed audibly.

Tanner continued, suddenly pensive despite his natural smile. "If only we had more people like that in this world. Why we might not even have a single lick of crime. Don't you agree?"

Silence. A glisten of sweat. Tanner felt his pulse quicken, wondering if this unfamiliar yet common face would be missed. He'd never slaughtered a coworker before, but something about the apparent unease he birthed in them… it was sustaining his cortisol levels.

"I-I'm going to bring these," his coworker raised the given folder with a distraught smile, "... uh, yeah. Okay."

Tanner watched them leave with a biting smile meant to keep his breath from heaving between his lips. Instead, he brought air through his nose until he slowly returned to his senses. Pressed to his desk, his fingers pulsed white. His body vibrated with stimulation; thoughts running wild. Luna was in his head more than usual for someone he planned on unburdening with existence. She lingered like a storm, setting everything he touched. Each little intersection was coated in unresolved tension. If he didn't plan something fun soon, he'll burst and break open at the wrong time - on the wrong person. 

With a shallow, thick-chested inhale, Tanner cast his attention back down to the open photograph album beneath him.

Maybe he had been lying about not having enough time to obsess over her, and perhaps that was cheeky of him, but he couldn't help himself...

Tanner made time to spare so he could pursue all the crime scenes related to Luna's tips. Some of them, he assumed, didn't end in disaster, but a fair few did. As was the splendid chaos of life, sometimes things just happen without a means to stop it. In this case, Luna's quick thinking didn't come fast enough. 

He carefully turned a plastic page, taking in another array of gory captures with a spreading smile. Crimes of passion were never clean. The thoughtless methods, sloppy as they were, brought a mocking grin to his face. Pinching his teeth together to hold in a growling laugh, Tanner turned another page into a masticated carnage scene.

Cannibalism or barbaric rape?

There, framed in blood-stained carpeting, was a smooth, hairless thigh. 

A woman's leg. Something soft and voluptuous; curvy and fat in all the right places. 

The polaroid shined beneath the fluorescent lighting overhead, pooling in the bent plastic like something wet and slimy. Teeth marks dotted the length of her thigh. Some bites left behind deep, purple-hued hematomas while others were simple gouges, clearly made postmortem. He couldn't decide which ones appealed to him more - which he wanted to mark Luna with more.

Luckily, he didn't have long to consider the photographs or what other hidden desires they might unleash because his alarm chimed. It was finally lunch time! Like that, whatever connection - and hunger - the photo and Luna had brought up in him, swiftly devolved into the need for food.

In the quiet lab, his stomach gurgled.

Ever since he spotted leftover rice noodles in Luna's fridge, he started craving Thai food. Today, he felt like khao man gai with extra chicken. For now, this ravenous craving of his needed protein.

… but, who knew what he'd need tomorrow.

  
  


**A Wednesday. Clear skies and noisy crickets...**

By the time he climbed in through the dining room window after first spying her through one of the living room panes, Luna had disappeared from her desk. His timing seemed rather unfortunate until he remembered tonight wasn't about killing her. To be honest, he wasn't sure what he had planned for her, not for tonight or any other evening. 

He wandered, surveying a lumpy sweater on her sofa that looked hand knitted. Maybe. Beneath his fingers, it was well-worn and soft enough to make a subtle current of sensation race up his arm. The lingering aroma of sugar drifted over the smell of a vanilla candle still burning on her coffee table. 

Soundlessly, Tanner bent down into a crouch, leaned in to smell her forgotten sweat. Musk; sweet musk. Something sharp like cinnamon sticks or ginger. A floral bouquet of rock candy and the trace odor of peppermint. Of the several pieces of Luna's clothes he'd taken home with him, none of them smelt so complicated.

Unfortunately, it seemed like something that would be missed if he were to get sticky fingers. This wasn't a thin undershirt she'd forgotten to throw in the hamper or a pair of underwear kicked halfway beneath her bed - this was a lovingly kept piece of knitting and _mmmmm_ _yes_ it smelt _delightful_. 

He stood back up with a smile, but once his spine straightened and his shoulders squared, everything felt tight. His pants were snug, and his tie felt suffocating. The sex centers of his brain fired off before he thought about looking down, seeing - unsurprisingly - a bulge straining the crotch. 

"Hello," he whispered to his erection with a strained, twitching smile. Nothing could be done for now about his current problem but the tie he could fix. Tanner loosed the red knot at his throat with a craning of his neck as his eyes traveled around the living room, eventually skimming the abandoned desk to his right.

He spied a fresh stack of papers on her desk.  _ Lovely! _

Tanner took this time to shift a few leaflets around with his pointer finger, craning his neck at the scribbled notes on a missing person report. The tie still itched, damp with sweat, so he loosened it just a bit more; eyes hot on Luna's work. 

A crisp-dressed woman posed against a bookcase of law books stared up at him. Some defense attorney or another that needed to go it seemed. The last name  _ Schumer _ sparked some memory of overseas shipments of large, noisy cargo. Shame that it took a serial killer to do what the police state couldn't be bothered to do, but that was a subject for another time. 

Right now… he could hear the shower running. 

Ever since that night with her naked thigh slipping from the sheets, he's been having urges. When Tanner replayed the memory, more often than not, he imagined grabbing her beneath the knee and returning her limb to the mattress…  _ gently and slowly _ so as not to wake the sleeping beauty. 

That was another thing that was a direct cause of the erection pressing persistently against his zipper: Luna was pretty - beautiful. But the description wasn't an objective acknowledgment anymore. The adjective carried a type of ownership - a possessive moniker. Luna was lovely, but she was lovely to him.  _ His _ . Her beauty was his…  _ hmmm, no… _ that didn't sound right, but it felt right. 

As he pondered and prodded Luna's papers for more clues to her progress, the shower echoed in the hallway behind him. More substantial splashes of water would drop to the tiles for a few moments before the steady pattering continued. 

She was washing her hair, he guessed. Then she was shaving her legs or something else; spray beating across the tiles, and then - then, the direction of the water shifted, and the echoes dampened…

Tanner turned at the waist, glancing down the hallway with a lax grin. Black eyes on a red face barely acknowledge him as he stepped soundlessly over the hardwood floors. Their glossy shine mimicked the rest of her home. Still meticulously clean, as if no one really lived here. 

It was apparent what was happening before he heard the first sigh, loud enough that it rose over the showerhead static, through the bathroom door and right into his waiting ears. 

A moan. Water pressure increased. The spray rotated, and another echo of pleasure tiptoed into the hallway. 

Like the night he saw her bare thigh, Tanner felt a slap of heat - deep and unwanted - before it rose into a sudden, irresistible urge. If he was a more weak-minded individual, he might have questioned this abrupt hormone switch, but he didn't. He was a man that did what he wanted.  _ Always _ . 

Instead of cowering beneath his own desire, he merely smiled, removed a prepped needle from his lab coat, and opened the door.

A curtain of steam parted for him, drawn out into the cold hallway.

"Honey, I'm home," he announced, albeit in a breathless leer. 

Luna remained unaware of his presence, either because her panting moans covered up his less than noiseless entrance or the water spray scattered everything into a single outside racket. Maybe she was so lost in her own self-pleasure that she wouldn't have noticed him had the bathroom been utterly silent. Tanner only considered the variables for a moment before flicking the hypodermic against the warm lighting. A bubble from the barrel rose to the hub, a star against the ceiling light. 

With a press of his thumb, the bubble of air squirted over the bevel tip, leaving pure liquid sedation.

"Are you nearly there?" He called again; only this time, he threw the shower door open, revealing a wet, glistening spectacle of bare flesh and flustered moisture. 

_ Oh _ , in all her glory… what a feast! 

Those gorgeous eyes of hers widened - a prey animal facing the jaws of a predator. She made a single inhale of sound, not really a word, but not an expressionless cry either. More like, Luna started to say something, but the needle in her neck took it away. 

"Sh' sh 'shhh… there-there now," he whispered, palm sliding against the slick tile beside her head, "I'll have you  _ there _ again very soon. I promise."

Once her wet lashes started to flutter, Tanner leaned in close, catching the way her pupils widened and slid upwards into the back of her skull. 

The detachable shower head fell from her grip as she began losing consciousness, and then he finally - after so long - felt her skin. The dimple above her ass made a perfect little impression for his thumb while the upper slope filled the rest of his hand.

Luna was just as soft as he imagined… softer even…

"Don't worry. In the morning, you won't remember a thing," he told her, voice a hoarse rasp as she went limp against the shower wall. 

Tanner savored everything for a moment, or several if he was honest, to admire the drugged, naked form of his newest obsession. Her body still burned hot from the water, steam coiling off her skin in translucent trails. Beads of moisture dribbled off tendrils of hair, running down her chest, stomach, and lower still. 

Slowly, gently even, he removed the needle from behind her ear where a thin line of blood began weeping down her neck, cascading over a swollen breast. Her nipple - stiff and tight - began to soften as the drugs soaked into her system. Total muscular relaxation. Ultimate nervous system depression.

_ Potent perfection _ , he thought cheerfully.

The showerhead swung as he held Luna against the shower tiles, water blasting the sidewall with an intense spray. So much pressure only to apply it to such a soft, delicate part of her anatomy? 

_ Greedy. Delicious. _

Behind his teeth, Tanner's tongue started to swell. He grinned at the thought of it. Maybe she liked a little pain - a little masochistic enjoyment. If that was the case, they'd get along swimmingly.

As her body started to slide, he wrapped an arm around her waist, tightened his grip on her ass cheek, and draped her partly over his shoulder. He took her - shower still running - out of the bathroom, down the hallway, and to the bedroom. 

_ To rape or not to rape? _ Tanner had never done that before, mostly because no one had ever teased him as inadvertently as Luna had. He simply did what he wanted with little concern or care for anyone else, and that included flirtatious women that approached him in the past, but this...

_ Luna _ ...

"No... I don't think so," he said to himself, dropping her with a soft bounce to the bed. 

Tanner swallowed. His smile twitched. Fingers trembled to do something, but this time he wasn't sure what his hands wanted. There was lust in his lower belly that wanted to pick her hips up, rest her over his thighs and sink inside, but Tanner had a feeling that wouldn't satisfy him for very long, and he was having too much fun to just gut her like a pig now.

Raping didn't sound enjoyable. Not at least from a mental standpoint, maybe even physically, the idea felt sour. Pleasure came from _being_ _touched_ as much as touching. 

Instead of fucking a very unconscious Luna, Tanner left her limp and damp across the bed to turn off the shower. He toweled off the floor where she dripped as he'd carried her and returned to coil her hair up in a soaked bun as best he could. Of course, just because he wasn't going to violate her… didn't mean he wasn't going to use such an opportunity to  _ study _ her.

"Look at you. So vulnerable. I wonder if you'd cry and beg me for mercy, so very afraid of being violated… beaten… butchered…"

Her skin barely tightened as he ran a thumb around the globe of one breast. Drugs were working very well, indeed. 

"Luna…" he took a knee, leveling his chin with her bare stomach and inhaled the smell of clean sweat, almond oil, and cinnamon off her skin, "... I could do whatever I want to you."

A whimper cooed to his left. Luna's face wrinkled then relaxed as a wet clump of hair slid down the side of her neck to the pillow beneath. 

Tanner glared, daring her to wake up. Why? He wasn't all too clear. His obsession was becoming something of a hindrance, after all. If she was going to take up more space in his mind than he initially allotted for her, he would need more than this.

Tanner slid across the bed and parked himself above her thighs. 

"Unfortunately, I can't keep my promise anymore, but I'll get you something better soon," he pandered, nostrils flaring and kicked an ankle open with his knee. 

As her nipples hardened from the cold moisture drying up across her skin, Tanner spread her legs and thumbed her vulva open. The shower water - beating so mercilessly on her - left her swollen and puffy. He licked his lips, staring, wondering if he should give her a taste, but decided this odd game of deprivation was enjoyable. 

In the end, he dabbed away the lingering blood from the injection and stood up, leaning over the scene before him. 

Bloody, bitten thighs popped up in one eye as he mapped the contours of her body in the other. 

Crickets outside buzzed and sang, adding heat to the moment.

"Well," he contemplated aloud, "I suppose some would consider this an impasse, Luna. A problem needing a solution. You're more of a-" he struggled momentarily to find the right word, "-a challenge than I initially thought."

Tanner shook off his ravenous hunger with a quick tightening of his tie before readjusting her across the mattress. If he wasn't careful, she'd wake up stiff and even more curious about her sudden location. Her body was going to be miserable enough after he interrupted her  _ stress release _ . Might as well make sure she didn't wake up with a crick in her neck as well.

"You're lucky I like challenges," he continued in a low, guttural whisper, "otherwise, you'd be filling the inside of a plastic bag right now.  _ Mhm. _ "

In the quiet, in the darkness, a car drove by the house, headlights flashing across Luna's limp, naked form. By the time the vehicle passed, Tanner was halfway out of her front door. He locked it behind him, tossed her keys up with a jingle, and pocketed them; grinning. 

The moon glared down at him with a half-grin, brighter and more full, just like the slow, malicious smile that broke out on his face.

  
Perhaps his cock was too hard, but deep down, he knew he made the right choice. One day, the timing would be just…  _ perfect _ …


	3. Old Dose

**Next night; Thursday. Blanket clouds. No moon…**

Tanner drummed his fingers against the sides of his thighs, allowing his posture to slump while he waited in the shadows for the telltale mechanical click of a lockpick. However gentlemanly as it was, chances were that his concern came from mere paranoia and not actual reality. Still, the harrowing thought that Luna could fall victim to someone else, brought him out tonight - so soon after his last visit. 

One of the pressing tasks that came across his desk that day was concerning the sex trafficker Demitri  _ Something-Something _ . Tanner didn't know the man personally, only frequented similar circles when there was a particular ingredient he couldn't get through work connections. Forensics didn't often deal with sedatives except in small increments used to trace remnants of blood toxicity reports. Black market dealings were great for bulk buying in the more seedy elements he specialized in, but it also meant he rubbed elbows with thuggish scum. This kidnapper - aforementioned scum - had a distinct MO, and Tanner spotted it the second he saw the mold impressions across his work desk.  _ Deep grooves in the metal from a thick bowie knife; stainless steel, hardened. Amateur _ .

The last thing Tanner wanted was this garden variety criminal free to snatch up Luna. Unfortunately, the impressions and photographs weren't enough to convict a man absent from their databases, and the workday ended before the DNA evidence brought forward could be processed. 

He knew, though - Tanner knew it was Dimitri fulfilling an order, and the bald fuck was doing it in Luna's neighborhood. So… he waited outside, in the dark for the lockpicking tune with a syringe filled to the brim with rocuronium and midazolam. Horrific side effects provided the recipient received their dose from a madman. If the chemical composition within his needle happened to be too much for the old man, well… mistakes happened. He'd be killing two birds with a single stone: remove a competing threat to Luna, and test his latest concoction. The lights in her home had a tendency to flick off far too often to leave her at the mercy of potential sex slavery. 

As the night progressed, the clouds swam across the sky like smoke. Clogged stars barely winked down, and the moon - growing fuller - sat above the wisps like a blanketed bulb. It was a perfect night for the kidnapper to show up. Funnily enough, Tanner didn't have to wait long after that thought to hear the telltale _ click-tick-tchink-click _ of Dimitri’s  _ so-called  _ skills.

Tanner raised the hypodermic to the night's low light, smiled warmly at the shifting sheen of chemical catatonia, and gave the plunger a menacing little squirt. There were so many ways to kill someone, but he was thinking something simple. A body dump in an alleyway or the classic corpse in the dumpster schtick? Usually, this opportunity would be a magical moment, but truth be told… there was a thick lining of distaste in Tanner's mouth at the thought of even touching someone like the Russian. Something about Luna being subjected to the perverted whims of degenerates made his skin crawl - made the concept of human trafficking disgusting, which was an emotion he had but didn't really  _ feel  _ before now.

A phlegmy sniff signaled baldies' location.

With the overcast clouds, the night was nearly black. 

Tanner followed Luna's house's walls, one palm barely caressing the rough stucco with his needle raised beside his chest. Outlined in black, Dimitri broke the lock on her window with an audible, smug smile. Tanner grinned, watching the man pocket his tools in a large thigh pouch, before turning his eggshell head back to the window.

The timing was everything.

Tanner waited for the exact moment when the muscles in Dimitri's forearms tensed, ready to lift the window open, and used that moment of locked physical action to lunge forward. Sadly, and perhaps fatally so, he missed the carotid artery and ended up needle deep in a thick trapezius muscle. Not exactly an ideal spot for sedatives. Intramuscular took too long… and far too much potency was lost due to the dose's time-lapse.

Thankfully, the night also provided ample places to disappear in as the drugs did their job. He tucked himself back between some garden furniture and a tall, sap-smelling hedge as Dimitri stumbled around in the shadows, grabbing at no one and nothing. Seventy-nine long seconds of this ended in the kidnapped face down in the grass; left leg twitching. He wasn't dead, nor was he asleep, not with the injection area being so off, but a man of his size still succumbed rather quickly to his newest cocktail. 

Tanner smiled to himself inside the darkness, as the last muscle spasms began to settle across the thick Russian. A few fleeting finger twitches said the timer had started. Six to eight hours from now, accounting for the accidental intramuscular injection canceling out any overdose concerns, the kidnapper would stir from his chemical paralysis none the wiser. But… did he really deserve that? Of course, if Tanner let him live - amnesiac brain making Luna a new target once more - then the problem still remained: Luna wasn't safe. There was, after all, so much fun to be had with a body awake yet unable to move...

He stepped calmly to the body face down in the grass before straining quietly as he toed Dimitri over on his back. Glazed eyes, twitching wetly, starred in a stupor at the sky. 

Oh, what entertaining slices and gouges Tanner could have with him if only Luna didn’t begin talking to herself from inside the house. Suddenly, she was all that lingered on his mind. 

With a gluttonous smile, Tanner combed his hair back into a neat wave with his fingers, teasing a loose strand back in place so he looked the part. The altercation had brought a little sheen of sweat to his forehead, but nothing worth taking was without a little struggle every now and then, right? 

Tanner looked down at the lump of muscle and bone beneath him and felt his lips peel back in a boundless grin. "Well, this _ is _ a conundrum, isn't it? What to do with you now, I wonder?" 

  
  
  


**Same Thursday. Reruns. Takeout.**

Luna pulls herself away from the monitor only after the bottom lid of her left eye starts twitching. She's been working too much as per usual, except today there's been little to no progress. Three reports have come back stickered in red errors, and she can't afford another fuck up. Even swiveling around to find darkness surrounding her - the afterburner of text overlaying the blackout living room - proves she needs a break.

It takes several seconds to realize that no lights mean it's time to investigate the cause.  _ Really, if there wasn't just one electrician in this whole damn town… _ Luna's already dreaming about light switches and circuit breakers as it is.

Outside, muffled by layers of plasterboard and insulation, something metallic snaps. She remembers the sound of distant bullets and police sirens.  _ Blue splattered in red. Marble trim and coffin shopping… umbrellas in the rain with wet, muddy holes... _

A slight tremor of fear cuddles around her stomach, but she's heard all sorts of sounds in this house before, and she's had blackouts too, and all has been well. No monsters - that she can prove - have lurched at her from the blackness yet. It's still uncharacteristically unnerving to be so spooked like this. Could be that, after several hours spent combing through the human refuse hiding behind unobtrusive looking mobiles and front doors, Luna is starting to believe every alcove hides a killer. 

Someone, one day, is going to have enough of it all and burn this town down…

"I just need to make it through the night. Like always, soon it’ll be morning..." Which has been her nightly mantra for years, it seems.

Going off muscle memory, Luna shuffles her sock-covered feet across the living room to the light switch on the wall, flicks it once, then twice, then a third time. Still pitch black nothing. Odd, considering her monitor still bathes a radius of three-feet in pale blue light. She squints at the screen in confusion for a long moment before remembering she bought that battery backup last week. No longer is her monitor going ape shit a good indication that the breaker needs to be switched, which means…

Luna slides her pocket flashlight from the desk drawer and clicks it on. A far-reaching cone of light coats the wood floors and open closet door. She had a nightmare a month back of someone hiding in there, waiting for her to pass by so they could jump out and tackle her to the ground. Since then, she's made a point to keep all her closet doors open, especially this one. For a moment, she scrutinizes the inside of it, making double sure no one is hiding in the skinny reaches of darkness - all clear.

The flashlight illuminates the hallway, but that's another thing she hasn't been able to shake off. 

Luna is no stranger to bad dreams and night terrors. Ever since she was a child, she's had them - nightmares about larger kids than her pushing her around, then peers in college harassing her, coworkers undermining and finally now… where she fears real horrors and real villains and…

… and whatever man or monster came for her last night. 

Sleepwalking was a new one, but the stress from all these recent reports must have gotten under her skin more than she wanted to admit. Last night might have been the most realistic one yet. Even now, she can feel that stiff dryness from this morning. She'd woken up naked as a blue jay in bed with damp hair and unconditioned skin, uncomfortably clean from the shower she’s barely finished. She’d dreamt of syringes full of purple jelly and long-fingered hands prying her arms and legs away from her torso. There were teeth in all the soft junctions of her body, tearing into flesh and nerves. _ Tongues were eroding skin into puffy red welts. _ She had her fingers lodged in someone's silky auburn locks, holding a hungry mouth close to her-

A clatter outside ricochets into her ears. 

Luna freezes, memories stunted as she strains to listen to whatever is happening outside her kitchen window. It's still dark, too dark to see that far, even with her flashlight beam shaking a dim halo over her dining table.

For some reason, she's sweating. 

Thinking about last night - about the dreams - has stretched every last nerve she has to the breaking point - her insides throb softly as her heart bounces in her ears. Shuffling echoes filter in through the glass and the curtains, but it's fading. The sounds scuffle away as does a thick crunch of grass and something… something muffled and human triggers real panic.

She has nine-one-one on speed dial, but she's never used it. Does she call them now?

Luna holds her breath until her face feels two sizes too big, but she can't hear anything anymore. After several moments of standing there, flashlight in the window over the dining table, Luna finally starts to breathe again. She deflates as much as her stiff muscles will allow and carefully steps down her hallway to Sarah's room. Her award ceremony portrait looks down on her fondly as she enters, checks the locks on the window, and flips the breaker. 

With the lights back on, safety has returned. All the boogeymen feel miles away even if they might as well be hugging the walls in waiting. It's an illusion, but one she holds onto as she carefully opens the door back into the hallway.  _ The coast is clear, _ she remarks in relief only to get two steps down the wooden floor before someone leans from around the corner with a smile.

Luna feels her heart stop.

_... _

_... _

_ … thump _

An auburn lock falls free from a slick-back styled do. The smile widens into a maw of straight, white teeth. Colored eyes brighten. And then… the intruder slides away… out of sight… as if they were never there...

It feels like her feet are stapled to the floor. She can't move, let alone breathe. Is her heart still beating? _ … thump… thump…  _ Luna puts a palm to her chest, feeling the heavy beating and pushes down over her heaving chest as if that will protect her.

_ Nine-one-one is still on speed dial, _ she reminds herself. She could call the police, and they could arrive just in time to clean her up off the floor, or she could back up slowly to run and hide in Sarah's room like a scared little child. The problem is, though, that Luna takes too long to think about these things - she spends too much time waiting and considering, even more time trying to determine if she’s hallucinating or not. Lack of sleep will do that, but this isn’t the case now. She's stuck in freeze mode where a smarter person would choose flight or fight. 

A man, well-built… tall and clean-cut steps into the hallway with that same predatory smile of utter delight. "It's too little too late to back away now, Luna. I've saved you from a rather unpleasant career path, so how about we talk for once? I promise I’ll be gentle."

The industrial syringe looped in two fingers proves otherwise, but she's glued; stuck where she is. Luna can't move, let alone ask him the million questions rushing through her mind.  _ Who are you? What do you want? I've seen you before…  _ All these and more stick to the back of her tongue, unable to morph into actual words. Not even a string of gibberish laced in anxiety comes out, just… just nothing...

Whoever the man in the lab coat is, he arches his back before closing the distance in three long strides. The wolfish smile turns into a broad, canary-eating grin. Luna knows, deep down, that even if she could move - even if she could talk - he would win. She's unarmed and small in comparison, and they both know it. 

"Ready or not, Luna… Here. I. Come." And he does. He's towering over her, trapping her against the table at the end with all her silly vanilla candles and the red man glaring down. The sharp odor of carbonic acid and cigarettes strikes against her nostrils, but beneath that is something musky and spicy, like toasted nutmeg and sweat. Suddenly, she knows exactly who he is... and wonders exactly which are nightmares and which are memories…

“Y’yu’you…” she struggles.

Luna's brain fires off enough neurochemicals to recall past lives, but it's not fast enough to gain her bearings before that needle slips beneath her jaw. She gasps, blushing at the way it sounds on her own ears and struggles to breathe as a warm, liquid euphoria seeps into her soul. The drug works swiftly on her senses, removing any equilibrium as she shudders and reaches for purchase, ankles turning to jello. Her palms meet a hard, warm chest, further deepening the glow across her cheeks. A wide, firm hand cups the small of her back, and another hot wave of stifled memories wracks her body. Her fists tighten in reflex around the lapels of a white, starchy coat and-

"I… know you," she manages in a weak whisper. 

The man smiles brightly; eyes shining with mirth, "I admit, brewing a complete amnesiac is difficult for even the most seasoned chemist, but it's worked swimmingly until now. I wonder how much you still can't recall…"

Several fingers rub into her spine, massaging old knots still unaffected by his sedative. Another vivid recollection of beating shower water and unbridled moans hit her.  _ His wet smile is there too, holding her as sharp throbs of pleasure ebb away.  _ The recollection brings a breathy curse to her lips.

"Ah, yes,” he sees the way her eyes dart and shine in remembrance, “I see you remember more than I give you credit for. My apologies,  _ Luna… _ "

Luna shivers as he cups her jaw like the lead in some cheesy romance. His thick, staggered tone when he says her name lingers in her gut like a knife. It's the eyes that remind her of more nightmares, but it's his hands that press old bliss into her nerves. Unraveled locks of auburn bring back more of those memories. _ Luna sees him leaning over her, her body still wet and naked from the shower, stroking her thighs and knees before slowly - achingly slowly - spreading them apart.  _

Luna whimpers as if feeling it all over again. 

It's hard to fight the lethargy attacking her senses. The pleasure from whatever drug he's injected into her neck makes her apathetic to whatever might happen next. His thumb strokes her lower lip with as much malice as there is a possession; obsession. It makes her skin prickle for a moment before everything starts to go numb. All her bones disappear into a cocoon of limp muscles, and her mind slips back into a cavern of sleep. 

The last thing she feels before the drugs overlap her conscious mind is lips on her throat… and a hungry, desperate groan.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. If you have time, please let me know what you think. All errors/typos are my own. <3
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